RACHEL
by werewolf-glader
Summary: FULL NAME CLASSIFIED. Subject B2 is serious-minded and responsible. After experiencing total memory loss, subject seeks security in isolation from other subjects. Succesful in any position inside the Glade, easily adaptable. She gained the support of those around her because of her kind, understanding and responsible nature. Only weakness the subject shows is lack ofself-confidence
1. THE LOSS

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it."  
― Oscar Wilde

With strong knock on a door of our room, one of the WICKED's guards entered in. He didn't wait for a sign of approval, the man simply rushed in like he does every other morning. Teresa groaned and pulled a big pillow over her head. Me, on the other hand, gave up from protesting years ago. What's the point anyway? We wake up every day at the same time, eat breakfast and do what we're told. We are here only subjects, no matter how much they sugarcoat it. As they say, we are here to help humanity. Everything we do is for a greater good. No matter the casualties, we're supposed to do everything in our power to find a cure – or at least Janson told us so.

I nodded at the old man to tell him his job here is done for now. The guard closed the door behind him. He's an old man, and his age makes him kinder than any other guard inside the WICKED's headquarters.

I jumped from my bed to quickly tide it up. Folded clothes already waited for me on the table, which wasn't very unusual. But instead of my usual uniform, they sent the runner's equipment. There must have been a mistake, I thought. Confusion filled my head. „Teresa?" I called for the girl, who groaned one more time. „What day is today?" She didn't answer me. Gosh, this girl just isn't a morning person. I walked to her bed on the other side of a room. There's a lot of empty space between our beds and the room is actually really big. I always felt like we're in a prison: the whole room is white, with just two beds and one table. Even the windows are sealed. And the bars on them are just a constant reminder that we're animals locke din cages, without a way out. I pulled Teresa's pillow out of her grip. „Friday. Now leave me alone." She said through her teeth. Realizing she's of no help in the morning, I decided to put on what was prepared for me and deal with it.

„Morning, Miss Rachel." The old guard gave me a pleasing smile. After I nodded, my eyes glanced to a wall clock. It's only four in the morning. „Why did you wake me up so early, Bob?" It was still weird to call him by his name, but he insisted on it. And… well, it's not like I can call him guard my whole life. „I've been told to wake you at this time, Assistant Director Janson said so." Of course he did. „Do you know where I can find him?" I asked, skeptical. „Probably in the lab," he answered and smiled again. This time it was to make me feel braver. But it didn't.

The first day I arrived, a man in black stood beside me and pointed on a tall building with his old fingers. „This, girls, is your new home." To me, an eleven year old girl, it looked like a place from horror movies. With no parents and no friends I was just a scared girl. There was just a stranger leading me into a haunted house. To eleven-year old girl it was the end of a life. As soon as my foot stepped on white, tile covered floor – the same one I'm currently walking on – a group of kids rushed by me. My heart slowly stopped pounding so fast because then, I realized I wasn't alone in this, and it felt mitigating. Scary, yes, but also survivable.

I pushed away my memories when the sliding doors opened. The lab was silent, except the sound of breaths. Four scientists observed something that played on a screen. From the place I was standing for, I could only recognize enourmus grey walls of the maze. A fifth person in the room, a gray haired man with a mole on his rat-like face turned to me. „Hello, Rachel, come, join us."

He said and I obeyed. Now, when I got a closer look, I wished I never entered the lab at all.

A large group of boys gathered on a graveyard… well, on a poor version of graveyard they call The Deadheads. For a moment, I'm not really sure what I'm looking at. I can just see the words in the corner: GROUP B. „They are dying like flies," One of the scientists commented. I was afraid to ask who. Who died? Sickness filled my body. Everything inside me turned to pain. This wasn't what I signed for. We were told we just have to find a cure. Yes, they did warn us about casualties, but they never say that this many innocent people will die. „Who was it?" I finally ask, the words barely recognizable. Director Janson moved his eyes from the screen to look at me. It didn't take me long to get the message. „I asked who?!" This time, my voice was strict and flat. One of the scientists, a woman with square glasses, changed the camera. Now, next to monitoring system, a familiar face showed up. It took me longer to realize, and without the name written next to the picture, I'm not really sure I'd recognize him.

Stephen. A crazy laugh escaped my mouth. They can't be serious. It's a lie.

My friend is dead.

**AN: Hey guys! I decided to write The Maze Runner fanfiction! I'm excited. Nothing's really happening in the first chapter. But I promise things will get interesting. And I'm sorry for my spelling and grammar mistakes! English isn't my first language **


	2. THE FEAR

"Truth never damages a cause that is just."  
— Mahatma Gandhi

Stephen was a first person who offered me a hand, first person who offered his friendship tor and since that day we were inseparable… until, of course, it was his time to be sent to a maze. Something flamed inside of my stomach, anger, strong like a fire. And it burned strong with desire to demolish everything that comes close to me. There was no need to hide my feelings from the scientists inside the room because in this moment I am not their subject anymore. I am a girl who lost someone, so tears started to drop from my eyes.

_'I promise, really, what's the worst thing that can happen to me inside the maze?'_ Stephen's words echoed in my mind like the rhythm of a drumm. _'Let me see, you can get stung by griever and not come back in time for a serum… you can get stuck inside the maze… don't let me start about memory loss and what it might couse to your brain…' _That was endless list of possibilities. And every single one of them was worse than previous one. Stephen laughed nervously, drops of sweat fell down his forehead. '_Aren't you a cheery one'_ boy muttered, trying to camouflage his fear with a smile. _'Please, promise me you'd come back.'_ Stephen gave me a thight hug, '_That's a promise than' _ he repeated.

One of the scientist, a short man with brown, greasy hair offered me a bottle of water which I refused by giving him a look that might gave him impression that I'd kill him if he doesn't get out of my sight. Director Janson observed the situation soundlessly from a safe distance, in a corner of a room. Because of my previous aggressive temperament, I don't really blame him. "Send him in," my voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it sounded more like a pleading. "Send us both in."  
Woman next to me, the one with glasses, started to counteract me, saying that they cannot do that yet. "They are not ready… You aren't ready yet." They. She meant gladers, and I'm pretty damn sure they are ready to get over with this mess. As for me, she is right, I am not ready and I'll never be. But I want to finish this. In this moment I wanted to have my memory whipped, because memories were to painful. "Thomas will agree with me on this," this time my voice was more determined. If Thomas approves, they'll have no other option than send us in. "But…" she started again.

"No!" I yelled, "Too many of them died, group A reduced by half… We can't lose more!" If boys from the group B continue dying like this, not many of them will be left to find a cure. Some of them aren't capable of surviving long enough in the Glade, some are too incompetent and others, few of them, are slowly breaking down. Even though there were still those who fought, chances of surviving are little. Group B isn't doing well either, but they are doing much better. "It's too risky," greasy man said peacefully.  
I glanced over at Janson, who still didn't bother to intervene. "Aren't we here for the same cause!? " I questioned again, but no one answered. A rotten laugh cut out from my throat.

Before twisted, shaded thoughts turned into real action, my legs started to move. Firstly it was just a walk, I was barely moving, but it turned to a jog, and then it became a flight. Was I flying from the people in white, that only pretended to care about us, or was I running away from my thoughts? Maybe it wasn't important, only thing I was sure about in that moment was that I felt betrayed. He promised.  
WICKED headquarters is a big building, with long hallways and it seemed almost like a labyrinth, endless turns and passages lined one after another. Doctors, guards, workers, no one was able to stop me. Ones who tried only got pushed away. On my third drift left and two drift right I finally stopped running, and breathed in large amount of air. It didn't feel like a relief, though, because while running I wasn't breathing at all, and now it's painful to let the air in. In this part of a building, air is stale and dry, this is where guards keep their weapons. I don't know why I am here, there was no final destination of my route, but this seemed like a good place to stop. No one is spending their free time here, even guards are avoiding this room. It's not a lovely place to be: grey, bricked walls with exposed pipes gives me chills – and poor lightning only makes it look even more haunted.

Hours passed and it only got darker inside the hallway. My thoughts didn't get any lighter neither. This loneliness only made me feel worse; it crept under my skin like a disease. It corrupted my mind like a Flare. What did we do to deserve this? All this terror, pain and loss – we did this to ourselves. Flare was manmade – and it's just turning us into what we really are: animals driven to kill anything that moves. We are monsters, there's no doubt in that.

Quiet steps echoed through empty space. A dark silhouette approached carefully. For a moment I was afraid that guards found me and that they'll punish me somehow for sneaking in this part of the building. We aren't supposed to enter here – but they weren't cautious enough, if they were, they'd put much better protection in this hallways. But relief filled me after I realized that the person who came wasn't guard at all, it was just Thomas, and he was much nearer now. Under the low light he looked even more tired than he is. Thomas asked no questions, tall boy leaned against a wall and sat down beside me. I wanted to ask him how he found me, but it wasn't important, because I'm just glad he did. Instead I asked, "Who are we kidding, Thomas? We'll never succeed."  
He bent his head on a side to look at me, "You're the one who was so sure about everything. Rach, don't give up just yet." But that was then, when I still had a desire to do right, to be good and meaningful person, to be, as stupid as it sounded, a hero. And during the course of each day my heart seemed heavier, and today it doesn't even seem like it's pounding anymore.  
"Tell me the truth, right here, no one's here to listen…" I sighed before asking, "How sure are you exactly in what we do?"  
Thomas hit his head on the wall and pulled his hair with his hands – something he never done in front of me before. He was the strong one, the leader, a child who grew up too fast. Thomas gave me hope whenever I doubted myself; he helped me return my confidence. And now, he seemed as doubtful as I am. Never before have had I realized he's fighting his own demons too. I accepted silence as an answer.  
"Is all of this really worth it?"  
"Maybe it is, maybe it's not. But at least we have to try." He finally spoke. "I don't want to see this world fell apart if I had a chance to save it."  
"He said the same thing, you know," Memory of my friend haunted my mind again. Thomas was never really close to him, but he was close to me, and he knew how much Stephen meant to me. "He wanted to die as part of something, better that than a cannibal monster."  
Thomas laughed sadly, and I did to. 

"Group B's ready." he finally said after long period of silence.

"Time to kick some griever butt," I joked, even if it wasn't time for jokes. But that's a thing I learned from Stephen, always camouflage your fear with a laugh. Don't let them see you're hurtin'. As I could recognize it on him, Thomas could on me too. He could basically smell it on me. Air became suddenly corrupted, heavier and thicker.

That was it then. "Are you scared?" Thomas asked.

I wasn't afraid to admit it, "Terrified."

Boy sitting on my right gave me an encouraging smile. It wasn't enough much, but it was enough to make me feel better.

It was terminated; they'll send me in the Glade.

AN: okay I admit that I kind of forgot about this, and with time, well, I lost all the inspiration. Sorry you waited this long :S Thanks for the reviews (gimme some more please) and hope you like this chapter. And sorry for all grammar/spelling mistakes.


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